Working Girl of Eliott
by crystalbrown
Summary: Young woman works for the House of Eliott. Story focuses mostly on Beatrice, although Evie is included. NB: Will be spanking in future chapters. Don't read if you're not interested.
1. Chapter 1

Sleeping on the floor would not have been my first choice, but what other choice did I have? So I curled up against the wall, hoping to gain a little warmth from that, and laid my coat over myself. The Misses Eliott didn't heat the workrooms at night, so it would soon be chilly.

I fell asleep, although it took a while, and awoke to someone nudging me with their toe. "Miss Oliver?" I groaned, opening an eye, then standing up so fast it made me dizzy, clutching my coat to my chest. "Miss Beatrice."

"What are you doing?" It was dark, the moonlight coming through the windows as a backlight, so I couldn't read her expression.

"Sleeping."

She'd turned a bit, and I saw her raise an eyebrow. "I know what you were _doing_ ; perhaps I should ask the reason why?"

I teased my lip; I had thought about this happening, and though I'd rehearsed what I'd say when it happened, couldn't remember that now.

Miss Beatrice took my arm, gently, ushering me out of the workroom and into her office, where she flipped on the light. That made me nervous because she called people in there when they were in trouble: when Madge had been hiding clothes for us to do, she was called into the office.

"Please explain what is going on here."

I was nervous: I knew I could be sacked for this. "I—I just didn't have anywhere to spend the night. I wasn't planning to be a bother, I would've been up before everyone came in tomorrow morning, and I'm sorry that I—"

"Why didn't you have anywhere to stay the night?"

I scrunched my toes together; I didn't want everyone to know. "Miss Beatrice…"

"I insist you tell me."

I knew I'd have to if she even wanted to consider letting me stay, but her tone was stern and intimidating, so I was having a hard time expressing myself.

When Miss Beatrice looked at me, her expression softened. "Why don't we go upstairs and have some tea?" Again, she took my arm.

We walked up the two flights of stairs, and when Beatrice opened the door to her sister's flat, I hung back. She opened the door to the living room and motioned me in. "I'll put the kettle on; have a seat."

I sat gingerly on the settee. I'd been fortunate to get this job at the House of Eliott, cleaning up after the seamstresses, and while it paid the same as factory work, I didn't have to spend ten hours a day in a hot stuffy room doing dangerous work. Instead, I ran errands, swept up after the girls, and basted seams. I'd seen little of the Misses Eliott, especially Miss Evangeline, since she was in Paris for the season. Miss Beatrice came into the workroom everyday, sometimes sitting to sew with the girls, but I was a bit afraid of her.

Miss Beatrice came back with a tea tray, poured the tea, and handed me a cup. "Would you like a biscuit?" I did, but I didn't want to take one.

"No, thank you." I waited until she'd poured herself tea to take a sip. I wanted to gulp it because I was chilled, but restrained myself. Miss Beatrice acted like a lady: sitting up straight, crossing her ankles, perched on her seat, and I wanted to as well, although it was clear she was from a higher class than I.

"Now, Miss Oliver, will you please explain?"

I took a deep breath and deliberate sip. "I have to sleep here tonight—just tonight—please, Miss Eliott. By tomorrow, I'll have somewhere else to stay." _I hope._

"Why have you nowhere to stay?"

This was the part I didn't want to talk about: one, it was embarrassing, and two, I was afraid I would burst into tears. I said carefully, "my mother hasn't room for me, miss, so I had to leave. But if you let me stay here tonight, I'll find a place for tomorrow."

Miss Beatrice nodded. "All right, you may stay here tonight. But since Evangeline is gone, you may use her room."

Her "may" sounded more like a "shall." "Thank you, Miss Beatrice, but I couldn't." What would people say? A servant staying in one of her employers' rooms?

"I don't see why you couldn't. We have an extra bed—you need somewhere to stay."

I was uncomfortable accepting, but she was insistent. "Thank you, Miss Beatrice."

"I have to get home to Jack, but let's get you settled. Since you were already asleep, I assume you're tired."

I nodded. She didn't know how tired. At home, I'd been taking care of my six younger siblings before and after work.

Others would probably have called the room simple, but I thought it looked nice: a mattress with bed frame, night table, dressing table and chair, large wardrobe, and small dormer window lined with plants. There was a beautiful white bedspread on the bed.

Miss Beatrice looked over me, and I felt as though her glance was belittling. "Do you have anything for sleeping?"

"No, miss—I just have my other dress, and I left that in the workroom."

She opened the wardrobe and took down a folded nightgown. "You can use this."

"Oh, Miss Beatrice, I don't think I'd better."

She put it on the bed. "Please do. I'd feel better if you did. Good night." She smiled as she closed the door, and I was left in the room by myself. I looked at the nightgown, then unfolded it—I should've known that even the Eliott's nightgowns would be different—and then took off my dress and put it on. It felt odd, but I might as well use it—I'd offer to wash it tomorrow.

I must have slept soundly, because I woke the next morning to Miss Beatrice's hand on my shoulder. "Miss Oliver, it's 7:30am. If you'd like to join me for breakfast, I'll be eating it in a few minutes."

I sat up in protest. "I'll just go out and get something."

"I don't mind if you join me—it's just tea and toast. Please?"

I nodded my concurrence and dressed quickly, not wanting to be late, then joined Miss Beatrice in the living room. "I'm sorry I slept so late—that you had to wake me."

She smiled, and I was getting used to it. At least when she smiled, I knew it was genuine. "I used to wake Evangeline every morning, so I don't mind.

I wanted to ask if she missed her sister. I missed mine. Molly, closest in age to me, worked at a country house as a scullery maid, so I only saw her on her day off—now, of course, the only time I'd see my family would be when I stopped by occasionally.

It didn't take long to eat, and we were downstairs by 8:00am, when the girls arrived. I went down as soon as I finished eating, taking care to straighten Miss Evangeline's room, so arrived before Miss Beatrice, and the others never knew.

I hurried to straighten the workroom toward the end of the day, hoping to get out quickly. I still didn't know where I was going, but the quicker I could leave, the quicker I could find somewhere to stay.

"Miss Oliver, may I speak to you?" When Miss Beatrice asked me that, the other girls all looked up. I leaned the broom against the wall quietly, avoiding their looks.

"Yes, miss?" I closed the door behind me.

"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

"No, miss. I haven't had a chance to look yet." I looked down.

"Stay at Evangeline's, then. I was thinking of doing so myself. My husband Jack is gone for a few days, and it would be nice to have someone else around."

 _She does miss her sister_. "Thank you, Miss Beatrice. But after we're done here, I'd like to go into town for a while, please."

"Certainly. Can you join me for supper?"

"Oh, miss, I couldn't."

"If you stay for any length of time, we'll talk about room and board. I usually eat around seven."

"I'll cook, if you want."

"I'm fine tonight. But perhaps tomorrow?" She raised an eyebrow, and I nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning at breakfast, Miss Beatrice again broached the subject of my housing situation. "Evie will be back tomorrow, Miss Oliver. But my husband and I have an extra room in our flat, and we'd love to have you stay with us. It's a little room, not more than a closet."

"What about your husband?"

"Yes?"

"Will he mind?"

"Of course not. Would you say that ten pence a week would be reasonable for room and board?"

"Yes, miss." It was more than reasonable, especially with board as well. "Are you sure a shilling wouldn't be more appropriate?"

"Ten pence is fine. That will cover your food, and there's not much cost involved with the actual room. We'd eat breakfast together, and supper after work. You'd be on your own for dinner, unless we brought something from home."

"Yes, Miss Beatrice, that sounds fine."

"We'll head over to my flat tonight then, after work."

I wasn't sure how that would work, since I knew she often stayed later than the others—or came in later, as was the case two nights ago.

The next day after work, I swept slowly because I knew Miss Beatrice was still in the workroom. After I was done with that, I tidied the ribbons and laces rack. It was 6:30 now, and still no sight of Beatrice. I hesitantly went into the reception; through the lace curtains I could see her bent over at her desk. Maybe I should just take the underground—but then, I didn't have a key to the flat. Now what should I do?

Miss Beatrice must've seen me looking lost, because she said loudly "wait one minute, Philippa—I'll be ready soon." Sure enough, after she stopped writing, she gathered up her coat and put on her gloves and hat. "Have you been waiting long?" She looked at the clock. "I suppose, since it's a quarter of seven. Are you hungry?"

I nodded. "Tomorrow, if you want, I can go early and cook something for supper. I'll do the marketing on the way home."

As we headed downstairs, Miss Beatrice said "I usually take a taxi, so you can ride with me. We'll count that in with your room and board—I normally have to spend it anyway, so it's not a problem."

I sat awkwardly in the taxi—I'd never ridden in one before, so I wasn't sure of proper taxi etiquette. Miss Beatrice was quiet too.

We had cauliflower cheese and bread for supper, with some tea. I'd started to relax now; at first, I had been on edge at every meal—who would want to eat with their employer? I went to bed soon after that.

The next evening was much the same, except that Miss Beatrice finished up much earlier, a quarter after. I'd brought my book along just in case.

"I have to do some work tonight—will you sit with me in the living room after supper? Perhaps later we can make some cocoa."

I smiled and went into my room to get the book I'd borrowed from the Maddox's bookshelves. When I got back, I was surprised to see that Miss Beatrice was sitting on the floor in front of the fire. I'd always heard that ladies didn't sit on the floor, and Miss Beatrice certainly fit that specification. I sat down by her, lying on my stomach so I could see my book better, but sideways so I could still see Miss Bea.

I read a little, but I ended up watching her. She was concentrating on her sketch, forehead wrinkled. When she noticed my gaze she smiled, and I looked away, embarrassed.

"Can you tell me why you had to leave home?"

I was surprised by that question—it came out of nowhere. But I felt so relaxed in front of the fire. "Me ma—didn't have enough room in the house, with the young ones. She couldn't pay for the food for everyone. I'm still sending her my pay packet, whatever's left."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Seven—and I'm the oldest. My brother Jack works too, he's a delivery boy. And my sister Molly is a scullery maid, but she lives-in. But it's a good position, and she was lucky to get it. Just like I was lucky to get this one, Miss Beatrice—it's so much better than what I had before, and you treat us well." I stopped, embarrassed that I'd talked so much.

"Do you miss your family?"

"Yes," I said quickly, than looked away. I wanted to ask about Miss Evie, but didn't dare—it wouldn't be respectful. But what _could_ I say?

"I'm the oldest as well, although there are only two of us. Do you feel you have to keep track of your siblings, to care for them?"

"Yes," I said, feeling tears rising. I really did miss them. If Miss Beatrice didn't change the subject soon…

"Can you tell me about them?"

"Jack and I are closest…" I couldn't even get through that phrase. I sniffed and went to leave, but Miss Beatrice handed me her handkerchief.

"It's all right—I understand. You needn't be embarrassed."

That only made the tears fall faster. "I'm sorry," I murmured. "I've never not been with them."

"There, now." Miss Beatrice sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulder gently. For a moment I forgot I'd only been living with her for two days and that she was my boss and relaxed. When I remembered that, though, I moved back quickly.

"I'm tired—I think I'll go to bed now."

Miss Beatrice had moved her arm, but rubbed my shoulder softly. "You'll get used to it. Being away from your family, I mean. Are you really tired? I thought some cocoa might be nice."

I wasn't that tired. I moved up to the couch, curling up on it. "Yes, thank you, it would, Miss Beatrice."

"Call me Bea, please, when we're here at the flat."

"Oh no, miss, I couldn't."

"Miss Bea, then?" I nodded.

She was back soon with the cups of cocoa and a biscuit on the side and handed one of each to me, sitting on the settee as well. "I've enjoyed having you around these few days."


	3. Chapter 3

My money was running low. I had to buy my dinners myself—I was so thankful I ate breakfast and supper with Bea, because otherwise I would have been in big trouble. The rest of my pay packet went to my family because my mother really needed it. Neither Molly nor Jack's salary brought in much.

By Tuesday I'd run out of money, which meant I didn't have anything for dinner that day or the two following. Bea came in to the workroom. "If you have some time over the dinner hour, Philippa, I have a project for you." "Yes, miss."

Bea stayed over as well, eating a sandwich. "Are you going out for dinner, Philippa? You needn't work the whole time."

"I'm not hungry, miss."

Bea looked at me, but didn't say anything.

When dinner hour was almost over, she pushed sixpence toward me. "Here's some extra for working over."

I had to restrain myself from picking up that money. "No, miss, I couldn't." Even though I really wanted it. It would've given me something for dinners.

Bea took it back, and I wanted to say "No, wait, I'll take it!" But I didn't. I had my pride to keep.

By supper, I was hungry. It wasn't as though I hadn't been hungry before, but it was torture to be around food and not be able to eat, to come home and have to wait until supper to eat it. I tried not to gobble, to make it obvious how hungry I was. Thankfully, Bea asked if I wanted more soup, and I accepted gratefully.

The next evening, Bea and I left a little early to go home and get ready for a party, and dropped me off at Evie's on the way. We stayed at her house for the evening and had cocoa and biscuits later, but no supper. I suppose she figured I'd eaten with Bea, and Bea thought the same about Evie. Bea didn't pick me up until after 10pm.

"I should have just left you with Evie for the night, but I didn't think of it earlier. It would have been easier on us both."

I tried to listen as she told me about the party, but my stomach was growling. How was I supposed to sleep tonight? I wanted to ask for something to eat, but it wasn't part of my room and board.

"I have to leave early for the office tomorrow morning, so if you want to take a taxi, you'll have to come along."

I'd gotten so used to riding with her that I'd forgotten I hadn't any money for the subway or bus. Yes, I could walk the five miles, but I'd have to leave before Bea did, and that would be rather obvious. "We probably won't have time for breakfast, so we can pick up something on the way."

But, the next morning, we were rushed, and didn't have time for breakfast. I had a hard time focusing on my work that morning. By afternoon, I felt very weak. At one point I stood up and swayed. "Philippa!" Madge moved to support me. "What is the matter!" "Nothing, I'm fine." But I couldn't stand straight. Madge led me into the office off the workroom. "I'm going for Miss Bea." "No, Madge, don't, please," I said, just as Bea opened the door.

"Philippa? What's going on?"

"Nothing, Miss Bea, I just felt a bit faint, and Madge overreacted."

"I was not, Miss Bea—she almost fainted! She was swaying, and I caught her."

"What's the matter?" Bea directed this question at me.

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

She knew there was something I wasn't telling.

"Thank you, Madge." Miss Bea's tone was firm, and Madge left. "What is going on here, Philippa? Why are you so weak?"

"Hungry," I said, not looking at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry—we missed breakfast this morning. But you had dinner?"

Another negative nod.

"Why not?"

"I haven't any money left." I said this quietly, ashamed. I could have tried to lie to her, but Bea probably would have figured it out. Sometimes I thought she could see through me.

I could tell Bea was thinking. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday… morning. Well, I had a biscuit at Evie's," I added, trying to make it seem not as bad.

"Philippa!" She stood up, surprised. "Why? Whatever happened?"

I didn't want to recount the story, but I did, slowly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her tone was a bit stern.

"It's me own fault, Miss Bea. I didn't plan out me wages well."

"But I feel responsible for you, Philippa. Next time this happens—well, there'd better not be a next time, understand?" she waited for my nod before continuing "next time you're low on money, please let me know."

I sniffed, starting to cry. "Sorry, Miss Bea."

"I didn't mean to make you upset," she said, looking worried. "Mrs. Burgoyne!"

I turned my face away so she couldn't see I was crying, but Bea left the room.

She just left me there… what was I supposed to do? Go back to work? I laid my head on the desk and folded my arms around it.

Bea came back about five minutes later with a tea tray. "Here, have a cup. I sent one of the girls out for a sandwich."

"Oh, Bea, you shouldn't have."

She didn't respond, just put a cup of tea in front of me. "Drink."

I took it.

When the sandwich came, she physically handed it to me. "Eat this."

I started, not looking at her.

Bea waited until I was done. "There's another here you can have in a minute. Philippa." She waited until I looked at her. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I… I didn't want to. It's not your responsibility to look after me. And I was embarrassed to have run out of money."

Bea smiled a little. "I understand the need to be independent, but sometimes you—we— need help."

"We get our pay packets today, so I would've been fine."

"You fainted before you got your pay, so you weren't." Bea gave me the other sandwich and poured a cup of tea, watching me closely as I ate.

"May I go back to work now?" I asked when I'd finished.

"No—I'm getting a taxi to send you home."

"Bea!"

"You still look pale, and I don't think you need to be working."

"I'm fine." I sat up straighter. "I want to go back to work."

"You're going home." Bea stood up, but I grabbed her arm.

"Please, I don't want to."

Bea stuck her head out the door. "Mrs. Burgoyne, please call us a taxi."

"I'm not going home." I said it quietly, half-hoping Bea wouldn't hear.

"I've told you to, so you will." Bea raised her eyebrow.

"Please, I don't need to. There's no reason."

Bea strengthened the intensity of her look; I looked away, cowed.

"The taxi's here, Miss Beatrice," Mrs. Bugoyne said.

"I'll see you tonight, then."

"I'll make supper for tonight," I said on my way out.

"The only thing you'll make is a strong pot of tea, young lady. Have some biscuits and bread, too, but not too much, or you'll get sick. When I get home, I expect to find you on the sofa or bed."

"Yes'm."

When Bea returned that evening, we had a light supper, she encouraging me to eat, especially of the soup. "It's warm, it'll make you feel better."

We lingered over tea at dinner, which was unusual; we didn't normally sit at the table. "Why didn't you tell me, Philippa?"

It would be rude not to answer, after all Bea had done for me. Still, I didn't want to. "I told you, this afternoon."

"You said it wasn't my responsibility."

"And it's not, begging your pardon. I'm to take care of myself. You don't need to look after me."

"I don't need to, no. But I don't mind."

I took another few sips of tea, embarrassed. "I was ashamed to have run out of money."

"I can understand that, as well as the need to care for one's self. However, sometimes one needs to ask for help—don't ever be embarrassed to ask. I would have loaned you the money. Promise me you'll ask if you need something?"

"But I already have!" When Bea winced, I shrank back a bit. I was sure this was the first she'd seen of my audacious side—other than the glimmer earlier when I gold her I wouldn't go home. I continued more quietly, "I asked you to stay at the shop, that night….But food doesn't matter as much, I can live without that for a day or two."

"One doesn't always need to be strong, in charge."

I'd certainly seen Bea act that way with Jack, though. "One doesn't? What about you?"

Bea's face suddenly got hard.

I got up quickly. "I'm going to my room."

I was scared because of what I'd said; I'd been so impertinent. I couldn't believe I'd said that—to an adult, it was inexcusable, but especially my employer, unimaginable. Bea would probably throw me out now.

I heard her doing up the dinner dishes and felt guilty because I should be doing them, but was afraid to face her and leave my room.

A few minutes later, the door opened. I sat quietly, my feet over the side of the bed, not moving, not looking up.

"I want to have a word, Philippa."

I braced myself for a scolding.

"You're certainly right—I do take charge and don't let others help me when I should."

I looked up, amazed. "I'm sorry, Miss Bea, I shouldn't have said that. I wasn't thinking."

"Apology accepted. I appreciate your honesty."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

Bea just laughed. "Did you get in trouble often when you were young? For speaking out of turn?"

"Not just when I was young," I mumbled. "Me ma'd whip me good."

"I couldn't seem to stay out of trouble either," Bea admitted. "But you've had a long day, so I can understand. Time for bed now, though."

"Goodnight, Miss Bea."


	4. Chapter 4

By the next morning, I'd regained my strength.

When we got to the shop, Bea asked me to lay out the materials for the day.

"I was just about to."

When Bea raised her eyebrow, I amended "yes, miss."

One of my tasks was to baste seams, and I quickly whipped through the seams that were set out.

Madge picked them up to inspect them and put one back on the table. "Re-do that side seam, Pippa. It's crooked."

"It looks fine to me."

"It's not fine—do it over."

I took it up, a bit huffily, snipping the threads quickly. But my scissors slipped, and a hole appeared in the fabric. I gasped involuntarily.

"What have you done?" Agnes was at my side, and I shoved the garment under the table.

"What have you done, Pippa?" Madge demanded. "Give it here."

I slowly brought up the garment. "I didn't do anything."

"You're telling me this hole was there already? We'll have to re-do this piece, and we haven't any of this material left, it was special order. Why must you be so careless, Philippa?"

The whole workroom was looking at us as if we were a show put on for their benefit, which angered me. Why couldn't everyone mind their own business? "It wasn't my bloody fault! The—"

"Madge, Philippa." Miss Beatrice's voice, quiet but slightly chilly. "Step into my office."

Bea had barely shut the door when Madge shoved the fabric in Bea's face. "She ruined this perfectly good piece. Cut a hole in it with her scissors, she did!"

"They slipped! And then she lit into me like a bloo—"

"Thank you, Madge, I'll handle this." After Madge had hesitantly left, Bea said "sit down."

Her tone left no room for argument. "I'll not have you speaking that way to Madge, Philippa. It is absolutely not allowed. If you do so again, I will dock your wages. And, should you ever use that tone with me... you'll be in serious trouble."

This was the lecture I'd expected last night, the same tone, anyway. I bit my lip to keep back tears; in one minute, I'd gone from boiling angry to meek.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes miss."

"Back to your work, then."

I went slowly, wanting some reassurance that she wasn't completely angry with me, that she was still the same caring woman I lived with, but she went to her work. No, not even a smile as she bent over her books.

Bea was talking to Tilly, Agnes, and Madge toward the end of the day. They'd finished discussing a few business matters and were chatting as they put the papers away—the other sewers had left already. "Girls, I don't know quite what I should do with Philippa. I'm afraid she's getting a bit stroppy and impertinent."

"Oh, you mean today? It wasn't nowt," Madge defended.

"It certainly was something. She's been that way at home as well as the shop—at home, it's not so much a problem, but I can't have it at the shop."

"My ma wouldn't stand for that when I was her age," Madge said. "I'd've gotten a strapping for sure."

Bea gave a tiny gasp. "I can't whip her!"

"Why not? Didn't you ever Evie? You raised her, didn't you?" Tilly put in.

"Well, I did once or twice, a hairbrushing."

Tilly added, "It might not be done much in your class, but Pippa wasn't raised that way. 'Round where we come from, whippings are an everyday thing."

"And when I spanked Evie she was very young—a child."

"And Philippa's one as well," Madge declared.

"She should be treated as a young woman, though—she's fifteen. She can't get into much trouble, yet, at her age."

"At her age," Agnes said, "I had a boyfriend I'd sneak out with, and we'd snog behind the shed."

Madge joined in. "My boyfriend and I would go to the shows—you know, the ones with—" she giggled "slightly immodest dress."

"Well, Philippa hasn't a boyfriend, so I needn't worry on that account."

"When I was fourteen," Tilly said, "my girlfriends and me were out behind the school smoking. Just the once, mind, because we got caught and strapped."

"And once," added Madge, "When I was thirteen, I went with my girlfriends down to a pub and we each had a few. Got rather hammered, so of course our mums found out. We all got it."

Bea's eyes were wide. "Well, you've certainly not helped me. It looks as though I have a lot more to worry about than I realized!"

"Oh, Pippa's a good girl." Madge tried to encourage Bea. "She wouldn't do nowt like that."

"I hope you're right."

After that lecture, I was shy toward Bea. That couldn't be bad, though, considering the way she'd spoken earlier. Heaven help me if I should ever speak that way to Bea.

After a few weeks, though, that feeling had worn off, and I was feeling familiar toward Bea. She teased me at times, but I couldn't quite tease back. I did laugh a lot, though.

We worked together well, keeping the house neat. Jack was back, but, if anything, he just added to our merriment. Bea peeked her nose in my room, where I was reading. "Philippa, while I'm out at the market, I want you to sweep the carpets." She swept out of the flat.

I continued reading, but the book was so interesting that the next time I looked up was when Bea opened the door again. "The carpets haven't been done." It was half question, half statement.

"I forgot. I was reading."

"I told you to do it while I was gone, but apparently you can't remember that long." Bea's patronizing tone made me upset.

"I can remember—if I want to." I hadn't meant it to sound like that, like I'd done it on purpose, and I tried to recover, but only messed it up further. "Maybe I'd remember if you didn't demand it of me and not give me time to answer."

Bea paused, then raised an eyebrow. "Apologize for that insolence, miss."

"I'm bloody sorry."

Bea stood up, but I wasn't sure why. She took my hairbrush off my dressing table and sat back on the bed. "Over my knee." Until she said that, I wasn't sure of her intent.

"Miss Eliott!" I was quivering now, and wouldn't have considered using the word "bloody," all my audacity gone.

"Do as you're told."

I was paralyzed, unsure of what to do. I couldn't disobey my employer and the woman who was keeping me. But could she punish me?

"Philippa!" I moved quickly, legs resting over the bed. Bea lifted my skirt and petticoat and began to bring the brush down. Hard. I whimpered a bit; my mother had switched me, but it had been a few years since, and I'd forgotten the sting of a spanking. Pretty soon I couldn't hold back the tears.

As soon as Bea stopped, I scrambled up, hiding my face and the tears. She pulled me over next to her, enveloping me with her arm. After a moment, I put my head on her shoulder. We hadn't said anything, and I didn't feel like it.

"I hope this drives my point across that we'll have no more of that," Bea said, but her voice was kind.

"Yes, miss. I won't do it again. And I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology, and we'll speak no more of this."


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry this is a little choppy...Just posting bits and pieces of what I wrote years ago. Doesn't have much continuity overall as a story. This is the last of what I had written.

I was staying with Evie for the weekend, glad because I wasn't under Bea's rules anymore. I was a little upset with her because of the spanking, just a little. Here I knew I could get away with things. And, I was dead curious, curious enough to go to St. James park. I wanted to see those strikers, but saw no one.

"Where were you this afternoon?" Evie asked conversationally, at tea.

"Over at Belgrave Square, Constitution Hill."

"Isn't that in St. James Park?"

"Yes," I said, not sure why she was asking.

"Didn't Bea tell you not to go there?" I looked up quickly, almost dropping my fork. "Did she not?"

"She did," I admitted quietly.

Evie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I had a chat with Bea before she left, and she said that if you went down—as she had an idea you might—that I was to punish you." Evie didn't look any happier with that announcement than I felt.

"But Evie—"

"But Evie nothing." She apparently was like her sister in some way—they both had the same stern tone. "Go to my room."

"She didn't mean spank!"

"She did. Go bend over the bed."

I was a little nervous, but not entirely sure that Evie had the guts to go through with this. I did what she'd asked.

Same as Bea, she grabbed the wooden hairbrush off her dressing table. I dug my hands into the bedspread, anticipating. When the first swat came, I couldn't help laughing.

"Stop laughing!" Evie said, annoyed.

"Evie, it's supposed to hurt." I could barely get it out. With Bea's spankings, I cried—with Evie's, I laughed.

She swatted again. "Like that?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug. On the next one, though, I gasped and said "ouch!" quietly.

"Like that?" This time, she sounded almost sadistic.

It still wasn't as painful or stingy as Bea's spankings, but I had a hard time staying still. When she finished, I stood up slowly. Instead of Bea's spankings, which made me cry and made me repentant, Evie's just made me angry, probably because I never thought she'd do it.

"Now, you'll stay in your room for the rest of the evening."

I frowned at that. "Evie, why?"

"Because you're being punished."

"I already was! Besides, I don't want to—I have plans."

"Stay in your room."

"You can't tell me what to do." I followed Evie out of the room; her glare wasn't as effective—or scary—as Bea's, so it didn't make me stop. "My friend is expecting me."

"I can tell you what to do, young lady, and you must do it." I caught a glimpse of Evie's uncomfortability at her telling me what to do, and I took advantage of that uncertainty.

"I don't bloody care what you say! You can go to hell!"

I heard the door click shut and froze. The argument had taken us into the hall. Who was it? _Please don't let it be Bea_ … _it couldn't be. She isn't expected back until tonight, anyway._

"Have I interrupted something?" She asked, ever proper, but I could heard the edge in her voice. She took out her hatpin, and it suddenly looked lethal in her hand.

Neither of us spoke.

"What did you just say to Evie, Philippa?" Us not speaking was not improving her mood.

Neither of us were looking at her.

"Philippa, I'm shocked to hear such language."

She was waiting for me to apologize, but I was still upset enough with Evie that I wasn't about to.

Bea grabbed my arm, not even taking off her coat, and led me to the bedroom. She grabbed the hairbrush that was still on the bed.

"Bea, please, I just got spanked!"

She searched my eyes; I don't think she believed me. "It doesn't really matter. Get over my knee."

I wanted her to shut the door so we'd have some privacy, but she wasn't thinking about that. I was pulled over her coated lap, skirts flipped up. She laid into me quickly, not even giving me a chance to prepare mentally.

I was crying soon; I'm sure already being sore had something to do with it, but I was also bitterly disappointed, partly in myself because Bea was upset with me, partly with Evie because it was partly her fault I was in this mess.

"Remember what I said to you at the office, about speaking so impertinently?"

"Um, yes?" It was hard to think when I was bawling over her knee.

"Well, this is what trouble looks like. Speaking to Evie that way, Philippa, that's just as bad as if it had been myself."

She was angry, and I could feel it.

"Bea, I'm sorry, please!" I was struggling; she hadn't stopped yet, and I was a little scared.

"Bea, I think…"

My face flamed at hearing Evie's voice in the door, but it made Bea stop. She still held me over her lap, and I closed my eyes, trying to pretend I wasn't in this embarrassing position.

"I think that's enough?" I could hear the tentativeness in Evie's voice.

"You'll know when I've finished."

I sucked in my breath and whimpered, not being able to help ouching. She gave me another dozen swats or so, then stood me up. "Apologize to Evie, wash your face and we'll go home."

"My apologies, Miss Evie."

"Accepted." I think she felt sorry for me after seeing Bea's treatment.

Bea moved into the door, looking back at me.

"I don't want to go home with you." I said it quietly, standing back a bit, not looking at either of them.

Bea didn't erupt, as I thought she might. "We need to talk, Pippa. I want to you come with me, please."

She was leaving it up to me (for once), and I wanted to refuse, but I also wanted to talk—not now, but soon. I didn't want to leave Bea angry with me.

"All right. I'll get a taxi."

Neither of us said a word all the way home. "Are you hungry?" Bea asked when we reached the flat. "No, thank you." I went to my room and laid on the bed.

Bea left me alone for a good period of time, over two hours. I didn't feel like doing anything, so stared at the ceiling. I couldn't help wondering if Bea was angry with me.

Bea pushed open the door. "Cocoa?"

"Yes, please." She'd put a few biscuits on each saucer, and I dunked one in the chocolately liquid. "Are you upset with me?"

"I was, but not now. You do know, Pippa, that that was inexcusable."

"Yes, miss." I could feel my lip quivering again.

"I'm surprised you had the audacity to speak like that. Was it because it was Evie?"

"I suppose."

"You wouldn't speak to me like that?"

My eyes got large. "No, miss!"

"And you should treat Evie with the same authority. Just because she doesn't get angry doesn't mean you can take advantage of her."

She knew me too well.


End file.
